<h2 id="c21"><span class="small">CHAPTER XXI</span> <br/>A TENSE SITUATION</h2>
<p>If Curlie’s knees trembled as he heard the
heavy bar being lifted from the door, there was
no trace of emotion on his face when at last
the door swung open and he stood facing his
three captors.</p>
<p>“Welcome in,” he smiled, coolly. “I was
just thinking of calling you.</p>
<p>“You see,” he explained, “I’ve just been
talking to your old friend McGregor of the
U. S. Service.”</p>
<p>The men started back to stare about the
small room, as if suspecting that the deputy
was hidden somewhere within.</p>
<p>“He’s not here,” smiled Curlie, who in spite
of the grave danger which confronted him was
enjoying the situation. “I was just speaking to
him over the phone.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</div>
<p>“Phone!” The half-breed whispered the
words.</p>
<p>It was evident that the trio were more bewildered
than before. They had seen telephones
and telephone wires in centers of civilization
which they had visited. They knew what they
were; knew, too, that there was not a yard of
telephone wire within three hundred miles of
their cabin. As for a telephone, had they not
built this cabin? How then could it contain a
telephone without their knowing it?</p>
<p>“Huh!” grunted the older of the two Indians.
He uttered a low laugh of contempt which
showed plainer than words that he thought
Curlie was bluffing.</p>
<p>Curlie’s hand went to his side. He lifted a
transmitter to his lips, then touched a button at
his belt.</p>
<p>“Are you there, McGregor?” He pronounced
the words distinctly.</p>
<p>It was one of those periods of time in which
one lives a year in the space of a moment, a
moment tense with terrible possibilities.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</div>
<p>Into Curlie’s mind there flashed a score of
questions. Was McGregor there? Would he
respond? Would the Indians be frightened to
the point of giving him up if he did? Was the
slender aerial still dangling in air and still
working? These and many others sped through
his active brain as breathlessly he waited.</p>
<p>Then, suddenly, with a fervently whispered,
“Thank God!” he caught McGregor’s gruff
voice:</p>
<p>“Aye, here! Let me have ’em. Put ’em on.”</p>
<p>The older Indian was so surprised by Curlie’s
actions that the receiver was on his head before
he knew it.</p>
<p>The next instant his mouth sagged open, his
eyes bulged out, his knees scarcely supported
him. He was hearing McGregor’s voice. He
did not know how nor why, but he heard. It
was enough. He was afraid.</p>
<p>For three minutes they all stood there spell-bound.
Then apparently the voice ceased.</p>
<p>“Wha—what do you want?” the Indian
quavered.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</div>
<p>“Only my reindeer, my sled and a chance to
get away from here,” smiled Curlie.</p>
<p>“Boz Peon, go get ’em.” The Indian spoke to
the half-breed. At once he was away.</p>
<p>“All right, McGregor,” Curlie breathed into
the transmitter. “Thanks a lot. Hope I meet
you sometime. If there’s anything further
you’ll get my S. O. S.”</p>
<p>Turning to the window, he began hauling in
on the wire and silk cord. Just as the reindeer
arrived at the door, he replaced in his belt the
last bit of apparatus.</p>
<p>“All O. K. for next time,” he whispered to
himself. “Trust the old radiophone to pull you
through.”</p>
<p>After leaving the cabin he was obliged to
lead his reindeer for the first two or three miles.
Had he not done this the deer might have rebelled
again and gone racing back.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</div>
<p>“Wish I’d insisted on their giving me a rifle,”
he told himself. “Wish there was some way
of getting that reindeer herd from them,” he
thought a few moments later. “It’s a shame
that they should rob the Eskimo that way. The
reindeer are everything to the Eskimo, food,
clothing, bedding and means of travel. It’s a
crime to rob them. Of course the rascals will
be caught and punished, but by that time the
splendid herd may be scattered to the four
winds.”</p>
<p>Little did he guess the strange circumstances
under which he would see that herd again, nor
of the ways in which the herd would assist him
in carrying out the purposes which were already
forming in his mind.</p>
<p>An exclamation of joy escaped his lips as he
swung back on the trail running along the
ridge.</p>
<p>“They’re after the outlaw! Good old Jennings
and Joe! We’ll get him yet. I’ll catch
up with them! Hooray!” He threw his hands
in the air and gave such a lusty shout that
the reindeer came near leaping out of his
harness.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</div>
<p>He had discovered that while he was being
held prisoner by the Indians, Joe and Jennings
in their pursuit of the outlaw had passed him.</p>
<p>“All I’ve got to do,” he told himself, “is to
speed up this old white ship of the Arctic desert
and I’ll be with them in twenty-four hours.”</p>
<p>In this he was mistaken, but since he did not
know it he went bumping merrily along over
the ridges. Now and then shouting at his reindeer,
now and then bursting forth into snatches
of boisterous song, he appeared filled with quite
as much joy as a boy off for a fishing trip.</p>
<p>So, for hours he traveled, until his reindeer
was in need of rest and food, then he turned off
into the edge of the scrub-spruce forest. Here,
after tethering the deer in an open spot where
there was much moss, he built himself a rude
shelter of green boughs, kindled a fire, roasted
some strips of reindeer meat procured from the
Indians, then crept into his sleeping-bag.</p>
<p>Here for a time, through a crack in his green
canopy, he watched the big dipper in its wide
circle about the north star, which blinked down
from nearly straight above him. He at last
fell asleep.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</div>
<p>In the meantime, in a camp some distance
farther down the valley, beneath a cut-bank at
the edge of a frozen river, his two companions
were receiving a strange and startling message.
The message was once more from Munson, the
explorer. Again the expedition had met with
disaster. Having attempted the flight to shore
in their airplanes they had made but half the
distance when one of the planes became disabled
and landed, to crash into a pile of ice.
With the remaining planes much overloaded,
they had been obliged to abandon all food. Two
hundred miles from shore the gasoline had given
out. Making fortunate landings on broad ice-pans,
they had at once started on foot for shore.
They had been carried to the right by a strong
gale and would doubtless reach land some twenty
miles west of their food depot on Flaxman
Island; that is, they would land there if anywhere.
Without food they were well nigh
hopeless. Still they had two light rifles and a
hundred rounds of ammunition. There were
seals in water-holes and polar bears wandering
over the floes. There was a chance for life. If
anyone listening in on this message were in a
position to come out and meet them they might
be the instruments in saving lives.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</div>
<p>“That means us,” said Joe. “And it means
such a struggle as we have never experienced
before.”</p>
<p>“Means we leave the trail of the outlaw at
once,” said Jennings.</p>
<p>“Why—uh—” Joe stammered.</p>
<p>“His trail will lead us twenty miles out of
the way. Flaxman Island is twenty miles to the
east of us; these explorers are straight ahead.
We follow this stream straight to the sea.
Hard-packed river trail all the way. The outlaw,
unless I miss my guess, will turn off soon
to cut across the hills.”</p>
<p>“We haven’t much food to take to them.”</p>
<p>“We have our dogs,” said Jennings grimly.
“Men eat dogs when they are starving.”</p>
<p>Joe looked at his old leader, Ginger, who lay
with feet stretched out before the fire. The dog
rose, stretched himself, then walked over to
rub his cold nose against his young master.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</div>
<p>Joe gulped, “Y-e-s, I suppose they do.”</p>
<p>“We’ll unload everything we don’t need, all
the radiophone equipment except the light set,
and cache them here. Then we’ll make a flying
trip of it. And,” he said, noting Joe’s discomfort
at the thought of sacrificing his faithful
four, the team that had fought with him, starved
with him and carried him so far, “we’ve got
rifles and ammunition. Who knows what game
may bob up to take the place of our dogs?”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</div>
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